Strawberries and Cream
by yapyap
Summary: Hermione tries to win Severus’s heart with her cooking skills.


Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters mentioned here. The HP universe belongs to J. K. Rowling.

A/N: This was written as a gift for Alienor77310 in the SS/HG Gift Exchange on LiveJournal. Her prompt was: _Culinary courtship, cooking for each other._

Huge thanks to my wonderful betas, Ayerf and JunoMagic.

* * *

The substance happily bubbling away inside a pan in the kitchen at Grimmauld Place was supposed to look appetising by this stage, if the cookbook was to be believed – 'of a smooth texture and a delicate colour of mint green'. Instead, it was rather suspiciously yellowish and lumpy.

Deciding that her attempt at glaring the stew into submission wasn't working, Hermione sighed. Cooking had always seemed so easy. Well, not that she ever had to put much effort into it – at home, her father did most of the hard work in the kitchen, taking pride in his skill. And at Hogwarts, house elves took care of the food, to Hermione's secret and shameful relief.

Of course there had been that awful year they'd been out on their own. But surely it wasn't Hermione's fault that their meagre meals had not turned out all that tempting? She'd had to make do with whatever was available – and that hadn't been much.

Thinking about Ron's comments about her cooking during that time still made Hermione angry.

"Miss Granger?"

_Damn!__ Did he have to get up now?_

Hermione turned around, hoping the faint blush of embarrassment would look like a flush caused by the steam rising from the pan.

"Oh, I hope I didn't wake you, Professor," she said. "I tried to keep the noise down."

Snape, who had been hovering on the doorstep, stepped into the kitchen and looked around.

"It wasn't the noise that woke me – it was the horrid stench. Just what have you been up to here? This isn't supposed to be today's dinner, is it?"

Hermione resisted the temptation to snap at the infuriating man, reminding herself that she'd only wanted to be nice and feed their guest while he was staying here at Harry's invitation … well, truth be told, she _was_ also a bit eager to impress him, if only because managing that feat – generally thought to be impossible – would also prove just how wrong about her skills Ron had been.

Obviously, it had nothing to do with the fact that Severus Snape (in his post-near death, post-spying, post-Lily-mourning days) had turned rather … dashing. Or with Hermione overhearing a friend of her parents who had mentioned how the way to a man's heart is through his stomach. That was just nonsense. Certainly nothing that Hermione believed.

Taking a deep breath, she gave Snape her warmest smile.

"No, of course this wasn't supposed to be dinner. I was only, uh, experimenting. With various ingredients. Finding out how they fit together. You see, I assumed that if I cut the celery into perfect cubes with a silver knife and cook it together with the potatoes in a stainless steel pan, adding just a spoonful of lemon juice after stirring the concoction exactly seventeen times clockwise and then twice anticlockwise, then the outcome should be _just_ right."

Snape raised an eyebrow.

"I think the phase of the moon was wrong," she added. "Must try again in two weeks."

He stepped closer to the pan and sniffed. "I think not. Believe me, Miss Granger, the moon will have no effect whatsoever on this … whatever this is. But I rather doubt the recipe could possibly have called for thoroughly boiled snails."

With a flourish, he provided his wand from his robes and Vanished the contents of the pan. Another flick of the wand, and the pan was floating in the sink.

"I'll leave you to the scrubbing," he said. "Don't forget that stainless steel needs proper scrubbing – no magic."

Hermione rolled her eyes once Snape's back was turned towards her. She knew full well what worked and what didn't work on cooking pans. Besides, she had much bigger problems now, such as what to do about the dinner. Provided she still wanted to impress him, of course, but as her eyes moved downwards along his back, she had to admit to herself that yes, she still did. Whatever it was that he did at night – for that's when he generally left for work – certainly seemed to have given him an appetising figure. If he could just drop the superior attitude … but that could be worked on later. Preferably while having a nice meal, accompanied by a glass of good wine, or perhaps even after that, curled up together in the small library, for example on that comfy rug in front of the (Floo-blocked) fireplace…

"While we're on the topic of dinner, do you have any preferences for tonight?" Hermione asked, deciding that a direct approach might just be the best course of action. And as it was going to be just the two of them that evening, since Harry and Ginny had other plans, she hoped it sounded innocent enough. "It's just that I convinced Harry to give Kreacher a day off."

"Preferences? Certainly. Something edible."

"How about some toast? I assure you, I can make perfectly edible toast," Hermione suggested sweetly. Appetising or not, there was a limit to how much she could take.

"That's not what I have heard." The infuriating man smirked. "I overheard Potter and Weasley reminiscing – not fondly – about this just the other day. Something about how glad they were that wizarding tents are fireproof."

_Scratch the plans to impress him, then._

"Would _you_ like to take care of dinner today, perhaps?" she asked. "After all, you're an expert in so many things – I'm sure I could learn from you!"

Did he just—? No, that was impossible. Snape could not have paled. It must have been a trick of the light.

Her sudden suspicions were dispersed as he drew himself to his full height. "I really hoped to spend my afternoon on more worthwhile endeavours," he said with a familiar sneer, "but since it seems to be the only way we'll have something to eat tonight, I will take care of the matter."

oOo

Hermione was banished from the kitchen as soon as she finished scrubbing the unfortunate pan. Snape declared he needed complete privacy and peace from interfering busybodies for his work. She was curious but willing to comply. The promise of a good meal (and having Severus Snape cook it for her) was far too tempting to be wasted.

At one point she thought she had heard some muffled curses coming from the general direction of the kitchen (not that she was listening at the door!), and a while later, the telltale _pop!_ of someone Apparating. After that, there was only silence. _Must have put an Imperturbable Charm on the door,_ she figured.

When the clock struck seven, the kitchen door opened again.

"If you wish to make yourself useful, you can set the table," Snape called from inside. "And don't pretend you're not there, Miss Granger. I am quite aware you've been hovering around for at least an hour."

Hermione was greeted by the scent of something quite familiar, even if she hadn't actually eaten it for a few years. _Curry._ Not something Kreacher ever had on the menu – far too Muggle and foreign for him. So the Apparating sound she had heard must have been Snape getting the ingredients … but wait! That had only been a few minutes before he called her in! Even with magic, that seemed impossible.

She decided to hold her tongue, but glanced around covertly while setting the table. Everything seemed to be in order, although there was another stainless steel pan in the sink, filled with water. And the scent of spices and curry in the air seemed to cover up something else, a vague hint of something burnt.

Snape looked smug as he served the food. And it really was tasty. Almost as good as in that Indian restaurant, the one she'd once visited with some Muggle friends a few years ago – the one not very far from Grimmauld Place, in fact. And if she recalled correctly, they did offer take-away…

"Where did you learn to make curry?" she asked politely after they'd been eating in silence for a while.

"Ahh … well, as you know, Miss Granger, I did grow up in a Muggle neighbourhood," Snape replied. The wine and the success of the meal must have thawed him a little. He didn't sound nearly as snide as he usually did.

"So did I, but I must admit I never learned the secrets of Indian cuisine," Hermione pressed on, encouraged by the wine and his almost friendly, if somewhat evasive response. "Oh, and don't you think it's time for you to start calling me Hermione? You've been staying here with us for, what, two months now? This 'Miss Granger' business is getting tiresome, and you haven't been my professor for nearly two years."

There was a faint flush of pink on his cheeks as he kept his eyes on his plate.

"I'm not sure it would be appropriate. The wizarding world, as you may have noticed, is a little old-fashioned in some respects," he responded after a few moments. "However, if that is your firm wish … very well, Hermione."

Hermione smiled. "I doubt anyone but Mrs Weasley would really consider it inappropriate. And we're not really on speaking terms these days anyway, not since Ron and I broke up."

"I'm surprised it lasted as long as it did," he remarked. "Now, would you care for some dessert? I trust that the main course met with your approval?"

"Oh yes, it was excellent!" Hermione replied. "Some day, I'd love to have you show me exactly how one should make it."

Snape rose from the table and made for the cupboards. "I picked up some strawberries earlier. Would you prefer yours with cream or without?"

"With cream, please, but not too much of it."

Finding some clean bowls, Snape filled them with the obviously ripe berries. He put the bowls down on the table together with the cream. "I've never had strawberries with cream," he admitted. "So I don't really know how much is too much. You will have to add it yourself."

As Hermione poured some cream into her bowl, she had an idea. "Would you like a taste first?" Without waiting for his response, she scooped up a mid-sized strawberry with some cream and thrust the spoon out towards Snape. He had barely managed to open his mouth to say something when Hermione directed the spoon right between his lips.

"It's good, isn't it?" she asked. Snape, looking a bit taken aback but too busy chewing and swallowing, could only nod in response.

The second spoonful was also accepted without any complaints, as was the third. Looking at the bowl, Hermione gathered up her rather formidable amount of courage, put the spoon down and picked out an especially tasty looking berry. Snape – no, he was Severus now – raised an eyebrow but didn't protest when she manoeuvred it into his mouth.

"You seem to have a bit of cream here," he pointed at her fingers when he could speak again. "May I—?"

Hermione tried to smile but her heart was beating so wildly that she feared it came out more like a grimace. "Of course."

Snape bent his head closer to her hand, keeping his eyes firmly on his target. Hermione barely dared to breathe when his tongue flickered out and gently removed the remnants of cream from her index finger.

"There we go," he said quietly, still not meeting her gaze. "All clean."

Hermione cleared her throat. "Thank you."

She looked around, trying to think of something else to say, and noticed that he, also, had a speck of cream on him.

"There is a bit still there, too." She gestured vaguely towards him. "May I return the favour?"

Snape nodded, his cheeks slightly flushed again.

Not wanting to waste any time, or risk him changing his mind, Hermione got up. In two long strides, she was standing next to him.

"It's right here." Her finger touched the left corner of his mouth. When Snape moved to touch the spot she had indicated, Hermione gently blocked his hand. "No, let me."

She missed the target by a bit, but when their lips met, neither seemed to care.

oOo

"That green thing you saw earlier … that was my attempt at dinner," she confessed later, when they were stretched out comfortably on the library floor. "With Harry and Ginny out so rarely, and you working on most evenings, I thought I'd use the chance to impress you. To draw your attention to me – that I wasn't just another former student and Harry's friend, but someone who genuinely wished to spend time with you."

Snape smiled, renewing the Cushioning Charm wordlessly. "You did not really have to do anything to make me notice you. In fact, I would never have accepted Potter's offer to stay here if I hadn't already had some … interest, I suppose, in your person."

"You never said anything."

"Of course not. I had noticed you looking at me, sometimes, but … I needed to be certain. I was not sure what your feelings were."

Hermione let her fingers trail down his chest. "Interested. I was most definitely interested. And intrigued. Still am, in fact."

"I wouldn't object to a repeat of tonight." He smirked. "As long as you don't try to impress me with your cooking again."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Wouldn't dream of it. But I do want to know how you learned to make such delicious curry…"

Snape cleared his throat. "Well … I can't really tell."

"You mean you didn't ask the chef at the take-away place where you got it?" Hermione grinned. Seeing Severus at a lack for words was just too cute, even if 'Severus Snape' and 'cute' were not concepts she'd have associated with each other before.

"I did try," he muttered. "But, well, cooking has never been my strongest skill, and I didn't think you'd be impressed by boiled eggs for dinner."

"Especially as I'm not fond of boiled eggs!"

Hermione shuddered, glad that Severus had opted for the devious deception instead. Besides, it had worked out well.

"Next time, we'll go out for dinner," she declared. "Unless you have any objections to being seen in my company in public, that is. Or … you're not seeing anyone else, are you? I don't actually even know what you do when you're not here."

Severus pulled her closer and dropped a kiss on her shoulder. "No I don't have any objections. And no, I'm not seeing anyone else. I just tend to prefer working at night – I do research, on my own, and find I work best when it's dark and quiet."

He started nuzzling at her neck, clearly interested in picking up where they'd left off again, when Hermione heard sounds from downstairs.

"Uh … I thought Harry and Ginny were planning to stay out all night. Where are my clothes?" She scrambled for her shirt, which lay discarded next to an armchair, when Severus flicked his wand and their clothing flew into his hand.

The library door opened just as Severus was buttoning up his shirt, while Hermione was busy straightening her trousers.

"Hermione—?"

Harry's voice trailed off as he took in the sight that greeted him and Ginny, who was holding a bowl of strawberries in her hand.

"We saw these downstairs and were wondering … but it seems you two have been busy." Ginny smirked. "About time, really. Let's go, Harry, I think those two can keep the library for now."

_The End._


End file.
